


Happy Christmas

by duchess325



Series: The Baker Street Chronicles [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Episode: s02e01 A Scandal in Belgravia, F/M, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Christmas, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 16:16:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9080110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duchess325/pseuds/duchess325
Summary: Sherlock and John are having a Baker Street Christmas party. Sherlock makes one too many deductions and hurts Molly's feelings.





	1. Happy Christmas Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very short piece I’ve written, which is an elaboration of what happened the night Molly was humiliated by Sherlock at the Baker Street Christmas party (A Scandal in Belgravia). The words in bold type are those written by the wonderful Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss. I include then to set up the short scene that I wrote between Molly and John.  
> Merry Christmas, everyone, and I hope to see you here for more stories in the new year.

Molly was running a bit late. It had been almost impossible to find a cab on Christmas eve and she had not had the foresight to call ahead for one. Now, as her taxi approached 221B Baker Street, she carefully applied her red lipstick and patted her hair to make sure it was still in place. She felt a bit awkward, dressed in fitted cocktail dress that her friend Emily helped her pick out for the occasion (“It’s a party! Everyone will be dressed up, and you want to make an impression on Sherlock, don’t you?”).  


**A note on the front door invited guests to come in and upstairs to Sherlock’s and John’s flat. She carefully made her way up the narrow staircase, tottering in her high-heels while trying to juggle two bags loaded with Christmas presents.  
**

**Upon her entrance into the flat, Sherlock mumbled, “Oh, dear lord.”  
**

**Molly, ignoring him, greeted everyone, “Hello, everyone. Sorry, hello.” John came over to greet her. “Er, it said on the door just to come up.”  
**

**John, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, and John’s girlfriend greeted Molly with cheery hellos as Sherlock rolled his eyes.  
**

**“Oh, everybody’s saying hello to each other. How wonderful!”  
**

**Molly eyed Sherlock nervously as she began to take off her coat and scarf. John stepped over to assist her with her coat.  
**

**“Let me, er….holy Mary!” he gasped as Molly’s slinky dress was revealed.  
**

**“Wow!” Lestrade exclaimed in appreciation.  
**

**“Having a Christmas drinkies, then?” Molly asked, blushing at the attention her dress was receiving, especially since the one man that she wanted to notice apparently hadn’t.  
**

**“No stopping them, apparently,” Sherlock replied, taking a seat at the table.  
**

**Molly made small talk with Mrs. Hudson as Lestrade ducked into the kitchen to get her a drink.  
**

**“Thank you,” she said as he handed her a glass of red wine. “I wasn’t expecting to see you. I thought you were going to be in Dorset for Christmas.”  
**

**“That’s first thing in the morning, me and the wife. We’re back together. It’s all sorted,” Lestrade told her.  
**

**“No,” said Sherlock from across the room. He was looking at John’s blog counter. “She’s sleeping with a P.E. teacher.”  
**

**Molly looked uncomfortably from Sherlock to Lestrade and then to John.  
**

**“And John, I hear you’re off to your sister’s. Is that right?”  
**

**“Yeah.”  
**

**“Sherlock was complaining…saying.”  
**

**John ignored the comment and continued, “First time ever she’s cleaned up her act. She’s off the booze.”  
**

**“Nope,” said Sherlock, still engrossed with the blog.  
**

**“Shut up, Sherlock,” John said.  
**

**Finally, Sherlock turned to face the others. “I see you’ve got a new boyfriend, Molly, and you’re serious about him.”  
**

**“Sorry, what?” asked Molly, a bit confused.  
**

**“In fact you’re seeing him this very night and giving him a gift.”  
**

**“Take a day off,” John sighed.  
**

**Lestrade crossed the room and sat a glass in front of Sherlock. “Shut up and have a drink.”  
**

**“Oh, come on. Surely you’ve all seen the present at the top of the bag, perfectly wrapped with a bow. All the others are slapdash at best.”  
**

**Molly shifted uncomfortably on her feet.  
**

**“It’s for someone special then,” Sherlock continued. “The shade of red echoes her lipstick—either an unconscious association or one that she’s deliberately trying to encourage. Either way, Miss Hooper has lurrve on her mind. The fact that she’s serious about him is clear from the fact she’s giving him a gift at all.”  
**

**John glanced nervously at Molly as she continued to squirm.  
**

**Sherlock went on, “That would suggest long-term hopes, however forlorn; and that she’s seeing him tonight is evident from her make-up and what she’s wearing.” Sherlock smiled smugly at John as he turned over the tag on the gift. “Obviously trying to compensate for the size of her mouth and breasts….” Sherlock stopped as he read the gift tag:  
**

**Dearest Sherlock  
**

**Love Molly xxx  
**

**For once, Sherlock was speechless as he realized what he had done. He could barely look at her as she spoke.  
**

**“You always say such horrible things. Every time. Always. Always.” She was on the verge of tears as Sherlock turned away, but he stopped and stepped toward her instead.  
**

**“I am sorry. Forgive me.”  
**

**John looked up at Sherlock, stunned that he realized the impact of his words and actions and even more stunned, perhaps, that Sherlock apologized.  
**

**“Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper,” Sherlock said. He leaned forward and gently kissed Molly’s cheek. Suddenly there was the sound of an orgasmic sigh.  
**

**“No! That wasn’t….I –I didn’t…” Molly exclaimed.  
**

**“No, it was me,” Sherlock said, rolling his eyes.  
**

**“My, god, really?!” Lestrade shouted.  
**

**“What?” Molly asked.  
**

**“My phone,” Sherlock clarified, reaching into his pocket for his phone.  
**

**“Fifty-seven?” John asked.  
**

**“Sorry, what?”  
**

**“Fifty-seven of those texts—the ones I’ve heard.”  
**

**Sherlock crossed over to the fireplace and picked up a small box wrapped in red paper.  
**

**“Excuse me,” he said, heading toward the bedroom.  
**

**“What—what’s up, Sherlock?” John asked.  
**

**“I said excuse me.”  
**

**“Do you ever reply?” John called as Sherlock disappeared into his bedroom.**

Lestrade came over and put his hand on Molly’s arm.  


“Are you okay? He just doesn’t know when to shut up sometimes with his clever deductions,” Lestrade said.  


“Sure, I’ll be okay,” Molly told him. Inside though she wondered why everyone, including she, always made excuses for Sherlock’s atrocious behaviors.  


John had followed Sherlock to his bedroom, but was returning just then. He sat on the arm of his girlfriend’s chair, arms folded.  


“Right, then,” he started. “Sherlock will not be rejoining us this evening, but we shouldn’t let that damper our holiday spirits. As a matter of fact, we may even enjoy ourselves.”  


“Who was that? Who was that text from?” Molly asked John.  


“Well, it was—a woman. A woman that was involved in a case that we were working on a while back.”  


“A client?” she asked.  


“No, more like… the perpetrator? It was kind of complicated, highly confidential. Anyway, it seems that she took a shining to Sherlock and has been texting him from time to time, but I don’t think he texts her back.”  


“Oh,” Molly simply said.  


“So, Mrs. Hudson,” John said, “will you help me and Jeanette in the kitchen finish the rest of the food?”  


When Molly and Lestrade were alone again he spoke to her.  


“You know, Molly, I wouldn’t worry about the woman, whoever she is. Sherlock doesn’t go for that type of stuff.” He paused and thought a moment. “I don’t know what I mean by that exactly. That is, I really don’t know what Sherlock goes for. Anyway, you need to find someone that appreciates you for the intelligent, caring, beautiful woman that you are.”  


“I don’t—that is--” Molly couldn’t find words. “I think I am going to step outside for some fresh air.”  


“I’ll join you,” Lestrade offered.  


“If you don’t mind, Greg, I’d like to be alone for a few minutes.”  


“Sure.”  


“Thank you.”  


Molly grabbed her coat and walked down stairs, but she didn’t go outside. Instead at the bottom of the stairs she turned and walked toward Mrs. Hudson’s and sat in the armchair outside her door. Here she would be out of view of anyone coming down the stairs and right now that is what she wanted because she was going to have a good cry.  


What is wrong with me? I’ve known Sherlock for a long time now and no matter how nice I have tried to be to him, no matter how hard I have tried to let him know that I am interested in him, he is just so cold, cruel, and indifferent to me. He can’t even pay me a compliment without adding a back-handed remark.  


A wave of sobs racked her body. She found a tissue in her coat pocket, which was soon damp with tears.  


Why, why, why does it have to hurt so much? He’s nothing to me but a crush. I’m too old to have crushes. I’m too old to let my heart be broken over something like this. Why is he the way he is? What made him this way? If he isn’t interested in me in a romantic way, why doesn’t he just come out and say it? Why does he have to humiliate me every time?  


Someone was coming down the stairs now. Molly sat very still and pressed her lips together, trying not to make any noise. She wasn’t ready to face anyone right now. Suddenly a sob welled up and escaped her lips with a little whelp, giving her away. The footsteps paused a brief moment, then continued. In a moment, John came around the bottom of the steps and approached Molly in her corner. He squatted down in front of her and put his hands over her hands.  


“I’m sorry, Molly,” he said.  


“Please don’t apologize for him, John. It just leaves him with no accountability so he can continue to be an arse to everyone.”  


“I’m not apologizing for him. I am apologizing because your evening was ruined, and that makes me feel bad. It makes me feel rather rotten, actually, because you don’t deserve it. However, if I may play devil’s advocate for a moment, I really don’t think that he knows that he’s being an arse sometimes. I’m not a psychologist or an expert of any kind, but as brilliant as Sherlock is, there is something in that brain that is not firing. It’s like he has no filter between his brain and his mouth.”  


“Maybe, John. But there are times that I think he knows exactly what he is doing and he does it anyway to push people away. It doesn’t matter though. It’s my own dumb fault.” Molly was sobbing again.  


“Molly, do you know what Lestrade told me when I first met him and Sherlock? He told me that Sherlock is a great man, and if we are lucky, someday he may even be a good man. That really stuck with me, and I like to think that each day that I’m with him we may be getting a little closer to meeting that man. He’s in there, Molly, just be patient.”  


“Thank you, John, but I don’t know if I can.”  


“I understand. Listen, come on back upstairs. Mrs. Hudson made some great food for us and she would be disappointed if the party broke up before we ate it all. Sherlock will probably be pouting in his room for the rest of the night, so you don’t have to worry about him. What do you say?”  


“Thank you, John, but I don’t think so. I think I will just go back home. I’m not in a very festive mood anymore.”  


“Okay. Let me call you a cab and I’ll sit and wait with you.”  


“Thank you. For everything. You’re a good friend to me and to Sherlock. I mean, not everyone would be able to live with that man.”  


John chuckled as he stood up. He then leaned over and kissed Molly on the forehead.  


“You are absolutely right, Molly. You are absolutely right.”


	2. Happy Christmas Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg Lestrade faces facts following the Christmas party on Baker Street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m trying something a bit different here. This is a story about Greg Lestrade and his feelings for Molly Hooper. I have always felt that he had a certain longing for her. It started at the Baker Street Christmas party in ASiB. When Molly takes off her coat and Greg looks at her, it’s like he’s properly seeing her for the first time. In TEH, he looks utterly disappointed when Molly introduces her new boyfriend and claims that she has moved on (from Sherlock, supposedly). Finally, he is absolutely miserable at the Watson’s wedding. I assume this is partially from the fact that his own marriage has failed, leaving him lonely. I also theorize that being seated next to Molly and her beau, Tom, is not making matters any better.  
> Now, to make it clear, I do not ship Lestrade and Molly, but I think there is a little crush there on his part and I just wanted to explore that a bit. A romantic relationship of any kind between them doesn’t really fit into my storyline at all.

Greg Lestrade tossed his keys onto the table by his front door. It was after midnight and the house was dark and quiet, his wife, he assumed was in bed. He was just home from Baker Street, where John and Sherlock had thrown a little Christmas party for their closest friends. Greg’s wife had said she had a headache and stayed home. Now, Greg wasn’t so sure.  


In the kitchen, he took a beer out of the fridge and sat down at the table to drink it and think about all that had happened that evening at Baker Street.  


Everything had started out nice enough. John and his date, Jeanette were there, as well as Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock. Sherlock was playing some Christmas carols on the violin while they all had drinks and chatted. Then Molly Hooper showed up and everything went to hell. Not that it was her fault; Molly was perfectly charming and a total knock-out in her slinky black party dress, but for some reason, every time Molly was around, Sherlock seemed to become a total arse.  


This night was no different. As soon as she walked in, Sherlock was mumbling under his breath. As Molly went around the room making conversation, Sherlock had to interject in his know-it-all manner. The problem was, he did seem to know it all. He knew, for example, that Greg’s wife was still cheating on him with a P.E. teacher. As soon as Sherlock said it, it all made sense to Greg, and he wondered if tonight she was with her lover while he was at the party.  


Of course, if it wasn’t bad enough that Sherlock had to blurt out things like, “She’s sleeping with a P.E. teacher,” or that he had to tell John that his sister was still on the booze, he also had to totally humiliate Molly Hooper in front of everyone. Greg pictured Molly standing there, horrified as Sherlock made his little deductions, and for good measure, insulted Molly’s mouth and breasts. As far as Greg could tell, both of those areas looked damn fine on her. He was impressed, though, that Molly stood up to Sherlock and told him how terrible he was to always say such things. He was even more impressed that Sherlock actually apologized to her. Of course, that was soon ruined by his stupid phone sending him a text alert in the guise of an orgasmic moan. It was almost a relief when Sherlock retreated into his room for the rest of the evening. Almost. The damage was already done and Molly, humiliated as she was, left early.  


Greg had thought for a long time that Molly deserved someone that would appreciate her for the beautiful, intelligent woman that she was. For some reason, though, she was so caught up in Sherlock. It was if she lost all her senses when she was around him. He could see why she thought he was attractive, with his high cheekbones, blue green eyes, and curly hair, but the way he treated her was just ugly. He was always very dismissive of her and quick to let her know if she had gained weight, should change her hair style, if her clothes were unflattering, or if her mouth and breasts were too small (which they were not). As if it were any of Sherlock’s business. Greg had seen her fawn all over Sherlock, only to watch Sherlock ignore her, or even worse, ask her to bring him coffee. And it would happen over and over again. Greg just couldn’t understand it. He couldn’t understand why women would fall for someone so cold as Sherlock when there were good men who would treat them well, but they just walked all over those men. Or cheated on them.  


Greg finished the last of his beer and pulled another out of the fridge. He needed to make a decision. Did he go through with Christmas tomorrow with his wife in Dorset, or did he end this all, once and for all, tonight?  


 

******************************************************************************  


 

Greg woke up on Christmas morning alone in his bed. After finishing his second beer the night before he went upstairs and woke his wife up. He didn’t get into a big row with her, though he could have, he just told her to pack her bags and leave. She didn’t give any arguments or excuses; she knew she had been found out.  


Now, Greg didn’t know what to do. It was Christmas and he was all alone. He suddenly had a stupid idea. He found his mobile and made a call.  


“Hello, Molly? Hi, this is Greg. I was just wondering if you would like to go get a cup of coffee this morning. I know you told me that you’d be alone this Christmas, with your mum going on holiday with her sister. It just so happens that I’m alone now too.”  


“I thought you and the wife were going down to Dorset? Didn’t you say you were going today?” Molly asked.  


“Well, that was the plan until Sherlock opened his big mouth last night.”  


“Oh, right. Yes, he does have a way of ruining things, doesn’t he?”  


“It’s all right, really. I mean, it’s best that I know. No sense in dragging things out any more. Anyway, I think that Starbucks is open today, likely the only place. Would you like to go and have something with peppermint in it and be bloody jolly with me?” he asked with a little laugh.  


“Um, yeah. I would like to Greg. Can I meet you at the one over by St. Paul’s? That’s close to you, isn’t it?”  


“That would be great. How about 9:00?”  


“9:00.”  


“I look forward to seeing you.”

Greg sat at Starbucks waiting on Molly and trying to think of topics of conversation. Soon she came in wearing a Christmas jumper and khaki pants and her hair, which was usually in a ponytail, hanging down.  


“Merry Christmas, Molly,” he said giving her a quick hug and peck on the cheek.  


“Merry Christmas,” she replied cheerily.  


A few minutes later, over their coffees, Greg said, “You look a bit tired this morning, Molly. Are you all right?”  


“Yes, I’m fine. I mean, I am a bit tired; I had to go into work late last night.”  


“You had to go in? Why?”  


“Identification of a body.”  


“Really? Who called that in? Why did you have to go in? I didn’t think you were on call.”  


“It was special circumstances,” she explained, squirming a bit in her seat. “Everyone else was with family last night, so I didn’t mind going in.”  


“What kind of special circumstances? Was it an accident? A suicide? Homicide?”  


“Um, a homicide? The face was bashed in rather badly.”  


“Who was working on the case?”  


“The body was actually brought in by, um, Home Office.”  


“Home Office?! Why in bloody hell would Home Office be involved in a homicide and why would they call you in—oh. Holmes. Molly, after how he treated you last night? You shouldn’t have done him any favors.”  


Molly sighed, “I know. Mycroft had her brought to St. Bart’s and called me to let Sherlock in to identify the body.”  


“Her? Who was it? Was it the woman from the text?”  


“Honestly, I don’t know. Like I said, her face was bashed up, beyond what anyone could recognize. Sherlock asked to look at the rest of the body. That’s how he knew. When I asked Mycroft who she was, he wouldn’t answer me, just thanked me for coming in. Men in black suits came in after Sherlock and Mycroft left and took the body.”  


“Bloody hell….”  


“Yeah, seemed very cloak-and-dagger to me. Anyway, that was late, right after midnight? I got home about two.”  


“I didn’t wake you when I called, did I?”  


“Oh, no! I had been up.”  


“Yes, it must have been around midnight. Sherlock came out of his room not long before that, grabbed his coat and scarf and left without saying a word. John got a call a few minutes later, but he didn’t say who it was. I left right after. Seemed like the party was over.” Greg paused for a moment. “So, what do you usually do for Christmas?”  


“Well, usually my mum and I go to my aunt’s house and have dinner with all the cousins, but since she and my aunt are on holiday, and I don’t really fancy hanging about with my cousins, I’m just taking a couple of days off to tit about. I was thinking of going to a show one evening or the cinema. I may go to a museum or two or maybe just sit about the house and read a book. I’m looking forward to some time alone.”  


Greg smiled at her. Suddenly a thought came to him and in a split second he decided to do something stupid.  


“You know, Molly, I’ve got these reservations at a little B&B down in Dorset for a few days—I was supposed to go with the wife, but that was kind of shot to hell last night—and anyway it’s all paid for, so I was wondering if you might want to join me. There are two beds, and spa treatments, and….and I shouldn’t have asked, nevermind.”  


Molly had blushed several shades of red and looked away uncomfortably.  


“I’m sorry, Molly,” Greg stammered.  


“Um, no. Don’t be silly, Greg. I’m really flattered that you would consider inviting me along so that I wouldn’t be alone for Christmas, but perhaps it wouldn’t be appropriate? Since, technically, you are married, even though your wife is cheating on you—sorry, I shouldn’t have—Anyway, I wouldn’t want any rumors—that is I wouldn’t want anyone to think that you were being unfaithful, even though our relationship, or friendship, is strictly platonic. I think probably not?”  


“You are absolutely right,” Greg said. “I don’t want tongues wagging over nothing. No need to give my wife any ammo. I’ll just drive down and relax and recharge. It will be a good chance for me to think things over. Yeah.”  


“Yeah.”  


Greg and Molly sat in uncomfortable silence for several minutes. Finally, Greg broke the silence.  


“It was great seeing you this morning, Molly. I hope you have a happy Christmas, get some reading done. I need to be getting back to the house to finish packing. I’ll need to be getting on the road.”  


“Of course. Merry Christmas to you, Greg. I really do hope that you can relax and forget about everything for a few days. I’m sorry about your wife.”  


“Yeah, well, I suppose I knew all along. It’s not the first time, after all. Still, I hate that arrogant bastard Sherlock for being the one to point it out to me. He does say the most horrible things, doesn’t he?”  


“Always,” Molly said with a little smile.  


“Happy Christmas.”  


“Happy Christmas.”


End file.
